The Football Team came back to school in time for a late supper, wearied and happy. Carrel’s School had been vanquished to the tune of 22 to 3, and it seemed that at last Yardley had found her pace. Carrel’s three points had been made by a field goal in the first three minutes of play. After that the home team had never had a chance and Yardley had scored a touchdown in each period and had kicked two goals out of four, Hammel succeeding once out of three tries and Dan Vinton securing the other. Only one incident had marred the game. Arthur Thompson, playing right half in the third period, had sprained his knee and would be out of the game for the rest of the season. The school in general was too happy over the size of the score to pay much attention to this misfortune at first. But by the next day it was realized that the team had sustained a serious loss in Thompson. He had proved himself head and shoulders above any of the other half-back substitutes, and it was scarcely to be supposed that both Roeder and Stearns would be so fortunate as to play through the rest of the season uninterruptedly. Now, in case either was forced to retire, his duties would fall to Green or Fayette, neither of whom could be called a first-class back. Gerald hurried over to Arthur’s room in Whitson as soon as he heard the bad news and found a very despondent-looking invalid. Arthur had had his supper in bed, and the doctor had just gone, after wrapping the injured knee in yards of gauze. “How’s this for luck?” asked Arthur miserably. “I can stand not playing football any more this fall, but what about pole-vaulting? I’ll make a fine Track Team captain if I have to hobble around with a cane!” “It isn’t as bad as that, is it?” asked Gerald anxiously. “What did the doctor say?” “Oh, he didn’t say much of anything. Said it would be all right in a week or two, but that I’d have to be careful of it for a month or so after I got out. I asked him if it would interfere with pole work and he just hemmed and hawed and looked wise in that silly way doctors have. I’d like to kick him!” “Why, of course it will be all right by spring, Arthur,” Gerald said with conviction. “Look at the people who sprain their ankles and wrists and――and things every day!” “Well, why didn’t he say so, then?” asked Arthur crossly. “Besides, pole-vaulting puts a lot of work on a fellow’s knees, and if mine is stiff and creaky I won’t be able to do ten-feet-six!” “Oh, sure you will! Buck up, Arthur. Tell me about the game.” “The game? Oh, it was all right, I guess. Tom was a wonder to-day; went through ’em as though they were paper. And Hammel was a dandy, too, even if he did miss two goals.” “How did Dan play?” “Rotten, if you want the unvarnished truth, Gerald. I don’t know what’s the matter with Dan. I suppose, though, it’s just being captain that’s queering his game. He dropped two passes to-day and was as slow as molasses down the field. I guess Dan’s gone fine.”